Roast Chicken
by sarah-vs-psycheotic
Summary: One shot. Short, funny, weird, kinda makes me think of me actually. R&R. No Slash.
1. It Begins

**Roast Chicken**

A/N: Just so ya knowI don't own anything, I'd like to own a car or a motorbike but no. I was in a weird mood when I wrote this, so let the weirdness begin...!

Harry was just been picking up a succulent looking piece of chicken, when he felt a familiar pull at his naval. His feet unexpectedly left the stone floor of the Great Hall and he was racing through a blur of color and pictures. Before he had time to question what was going on, he landed in a forest clearing surrounded by Death Eaters, wands pointing at him.

Harry decided to keep quiet. His wand was in his trunk up in the boys' dormitory where he had left it after a particularly grueling Potions lesson, so he was defenseless against them.

The Death Eater closest to Harry stepped forward, pressing his wand to Harry's throat. "Hello, Potter. Enjoy your piece of chicken?"

The Death Eaters snickered.

Harry looked down at his hand and realized he was still gripping the chicken with much more force than was necessary. Suddenly a loud rumbling sound echoed around him. He looked down at his stomach and groaned. The Death Eaters looked around in panic.

'Brilliant time to start feeling hungry, Potter,' Harry thought.

His stomach growled louder.

'Maybe I could just eat the chicken…'

The Death Eaters were still spinning around trying to locate the source of the noise.

'Blimey, they're idiots…'

Harry's stomach gave one final complaint before Harry lifted the juicy looking chicken piece to his mouth and took a bite.

Harry woke with a start. He had a horrible taste in his mouth and he realized that wasn't the only thing that was in his mouth. He spat out his pillow, a clump of feathers sticking to his mouth.

"Tasty?" a voice asked from the doorway.

Harry turned around and found Aunt Petunia standing at his door. Harry sputtered to explain, feathers flying from his mouth.

"Get down to the kitchen and have breakfast... when you've finished your little snack." Aunt Petunia disappeared out the door as Harry was choking up the rest of the feathers.

He swiped at his tongue trying to get the texture out of his mouth. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen area. Stumbling down the stairs, he smelt something delicious in the air. Following the smell he found himself at the dining table with his mouth watering.

There, on the wooden table, was a roast chicken.

A/N: Review peoples


	2. Return of the Chicken

A/N: Another really weird chapter to my really weird story.

* * *

Harry stared.

His dreams had come true!

Rushing down the stairs to the table, and therefore the chicken, Harry tripped over his feet and rolled the rest of the way, stopping at a pair of enormous feet.

A hand grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and hauled him roughly to his feet.

"Careful, boy!" Uncle Vernon yelled in his face, spit flying from his mouth. Unfortunately said spit landed on Harry's face.

"Sorry," he said meekly carefully struggling to get out of his uncle's grip.

Uncle Vernon let out a growl and tossed Harry through air.

Harry didn't mind in the slightest. In fact he was silently cheering himself on – he was heading straight towards the chicken! Drool formed at the sides of his mouth.

He was getting closer.

Almost there…

So close…

His arm reached out to grab the precious chicken…

And Dudley hauled it onto his own plate.

Harry went flying over the top of the table much to the shock of Aunt Petunia who let out a neigh as she ducked. As soon as his feet touched the ground Harry hurried over to the dining table and sat down, looking like a hyperactive puppy waiting to be served dinner.

"What's gotten into you?" Dudley asked snidely, goggling at Harry as though he'd grown another head.

Without realizing, Harry's tongue slid out of his mouth while he was eying the delicious-looking roast. "Chicken…"

"What?"

"Mmmm…" Harry licked his chops. "Chicken… Are you done with it?"

Dudley looked worriedly at his mother, who still had her head under the table. "Sure," he said cautiously.

Harry lunged at the chicken, grabbed it and plonked it on his own plate. He stared at it like it was his long lost love… and promptly stuck a fork in it. Acting as though it was a sacred ritual to cut a chicken, Harry gently started to cut off a slice from the breast. He was almost done when Uncle Vernon proclaimed:

"Looks as though everyone's done! I'll take that." He grasped Harry's plate and was about to hoist it off the table, along with the beautiful roast chicken when Harry fairly jumped on it.

"What are you doing, boy?" Uncle Vernon yelled in surprise.

"My chicken," Harry said, glaring at him.

Uncle Vernon just stared. _He's off his rocker…_

"My chicken!"

Harry yanked the dish out of his astonished uncle's hands and bolted up the stairs, with his beloved chicken. Once in his room he quickly but carefully laid the chicken on his desk, ran to the door, pushed the cupboard in front of it, and went to the window, all the while muttering to himself.

"I am going to enjoy this… first the dream then Dudley… worth it…"

He locked his window and moved the chicken to his bed. Without bothering with the knife or fork, he tore a chunk out off and happily ate.

In the kitchen, everyone was still in a minor case of shock.

"I think we need to calla mental hospital, dad," Dudley said.

All Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia could do was nod.

* * *

A/N: Review if you want to, I'm not overly fussed. 


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